Their relationship was pretty tumultuous — it got to the point where one week they were dating and the next week they were broken up. I could barely keep track. Malcolm would call or text me sometimes late at night when Mary wouldn’t answer his calls. I was stuck in the middle of their drama, trying to assuage both sides. I didn’t want them to be fighting. I preferred when we could all hang out happily together.
I don’t remember exactly how I ended up on his mattress that night, with him offering to massage my back. Our flirtation had started casually enough and evolved into a very frustrating temptation that I started to encourage. Malcolm and Mary had recently broken up again. He had probably called me to talk about his distress, and I had probably gone to his house under the pretenses of continuing my counseling in person. I can’t plead total innocence on possible scenarios involving me hanging out with my best friend’s boyfriend alone in his room while drinking alcohol. It didn’t “just happen.” I was complicit in my deceit.